


Balloons

by ambrolleignsgirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Claudia Stilinski - Freeform, Drabble, Hale family - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Slash, kind of, mentions of - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 03:50:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4289697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambrolleignsgirl/pseuds/ambrolleignsgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request on Tumblr: 'This is for the drabble challenge. Can you please do a Sterek drabble? Balloons'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balloons

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on a drabble challenge I reblogged on Tumblr. One of my followers requested one, so I thought I'd post it on here.

Balloons

 

It's weird. It's a weird place to run into someone you know. Logistically, it makes complete sense to find Derek Hale here. Family tragically burned to death while he and his older sister stood by helplessly. Only for that sister to be murdered by a sociopathic uncle. How Derek hasn't ended up on Oprah is shocking.

Logistically, it also makes sense for Stiles to be here. Mom ripped away at the tender age of 10. Cancer is an ugly thing on everyone, even if they were as beautiful as Claudia Stilinski was. The same burning embers in her eyes, auburn locks, and a face speckled with tiny moles like a far away constellation. TV writers are liars, after all; time does not heal all wounds.

Still though, the Beacon Hills Cemetery is not a place to run into your friend. Close friend. Close werewolf friend. Ok, fine, close werewolf crush/friend. If Stiles is big enough to go see his mom alone, he can admit to having the tiniest of crushes on a certain Hale family member. But not Peter because that's gross. Or Cora because she's the devil incarnate. Putting her and Lydia in a room together is asking to get your ass handed to you about whatever you're discussing.

Stiles spots Derek winding his way out of the cemetery and looks up in time to make eye contact.

Derek falters to a stop as he takes in Stiles' slightly hunched frame, hands in his pockets conveying a vulnerability he doesn't let anyone see unless he's been seriously injured. Even then, Stiles always fights to stay conscious, get discharged early, and foregoes stitches for staples all against medical advisement. Seeing his eyes dulled with no blood in sight shocks Derek to his core.

He considers just putting his head back down and continuing on his way out of the cemetery, but then Stiles gives him that infuriating smirk and wink that resembles someone with a facial twitch that somehow still manages to be charming.

"It's trademark Stilinski charm," Stiles had said once.

Either way, Derek takes the look as an invitation to join Stiles where he stands. He isn't surprised to see him visiting his mom. When they were infiltrated by a Djinn a few months ago, Stiles was hit hard. In a voice completely void of emotion, Stiles recounted the fantasy the Djinn had him living as he siphoned out his blood for its magical value. Even Stiles' spark couldn't save him from having to live what seemed like weeks with his mom by his side. The pack had supposedly found a way to bring her back using Stiles' spark, but in the end, logic was able to wake him. Even under magical influence, Stiles has seen enough if Buffy to know you don't fuck with the dead. He fought his way out by killing his fantasy mother and has suffered nightmares about it ever since. Derek knows because he's a deputy now and the Sheriff talks to him about Stiles sometimes. Derek doesn't lurk under his window. He doesn't.

"I wish graves were indoors," Stiles says, startling Derek out of his train of thought. He looks up but Stiles is looking studiously at his worn sneakers.

"Why?" Derek almost winces at how rough he sounds, but its not like he was having a picnic here. The sting of 11 family members lost hasn't lessened over time.

"Because my mom loved Casablanca lilies," Stiles tweaks one of the petals from the bouquet he must've brought with him. "But she loved balloons more than anything."

Derek frowned. "So you'd want to bring her balloons?"

"Hey!" Stiles protests. "The balloon industry isn't what it once was, ok? It could use some help from a grieving son." That last bit made Derek wince a little but Stiles' easy going smile, the one that lights up his eyes, puts him at ease. He forces the tension out of his shoulders and relaxes enough to crack a smile.

Of course, Stiles chooses to gasp dramatically and grab at his chest. "Is that a smile, Derek Hale?" It leaves as quickly as it came.

"You couldn't just appreciate the moment for what it was, could you?" Derek glares without any real heat. There's even less heat in it as Stiles breaks out into laughter, grin wide and head flung back to expose his throat. Derek swallows hard and tries to slow his traitor pulse.

"Come on, Sourwolf," Stiles says after catching his breath. He uses his shoulder to nudge Derek's. "It's getting late." Even as he says the words, his eyes stray back to his mother's final place of rest and he makes no move to leave.

Derek steels his nerves and places a warm hand on the small of Stiles' back. He flails a little, but gathers himself quickly. Derek can see the boy fading day by day as the man Stiles is going to become starts to peek out more often. Stiles gives him a warm smile and nods.

Together they walk out of the cemetery, not holding hands, but if their shoulders are closer than strictly necessary then no one (read: Sheriff Stilinski) has to know.

 

When Stiles comes back a few days later, his Casablanca lilies are in a vase he didn't bring and, tied around that vase, is a rainbow of balloons.


End file.
